Rail Ridge Crossing — The Valleys

The old school bus ground slowly up to the crest of the last ridge before crossing through the summit tunnel and beginning the final descent into Hot Creek Valley.

Thar the mountain goat worked expertly through the gears, slowing at each corner, knowing the exact speed and gear for every twist and turn of the narrow mountain road. The engine gave a grateful gurgle as the bus reached the top and entered the summit tunnel, completing the traverse beneath the steepest part of the ridge.

Emerging from the tunnel, the bus began the long serpentine descent to the valley floor. Thar shifted down a gear and lightly touched the brakes before entering the first hairpin curve of the descent. The bus straightened briefly, then entered a tighter second hairpin. Thar shifted down again, touching the brakes to maintain the correct entry speed.

The brakes felt spongy.

Thar frowned. The old mountain goat had driven this very bus on this very road every school day for the last 34 years. He knew every hill, every bend, and every quirk that the valley roads had. The same held true for his bus — it may have been old, but he knew its every sound, rattle and gurgle, how it responded in all types of weather conditions and how it felt on every inch, yard and mile of the road. The visceral connection between bus and driver was strong and something was wrong. He knew it — from his horns to his hooves.

With even more caution than usual, he completed the second hairpin curve — his senses alert to any change in the bus. As he exited, he touched the brakes again — and his hoof went straight to the floor.

The bus had now entered a longer straight downhill stretch.

Thar faced an immediate dilemma, with only seconds to decide. Should he attempt to downshift again? Disengaging the clutch and moving the shifter out of gear would momentarily disconnect the drive from the engine to the wheels. If he failed to engage the lower gear, inertia and the bus’s increasing downhill momentum would take over.

The gearbox, as old as the bus, had its own temperament — peculiar quirks and cranky demands. The speed of both bus and engine had to be just right or the gearbox would howl in protest and refuse point-blank to cooperate.

The alternative was to leave the bus in its current gear and hope he could make the 90° turn at the bottom of the straight. This was not a good option. Failure would send the bus over a near-vertical cliff.

Downshifting a fully loaded bus, already increasing in speed, on a straight downhill with no brakes was no small decision.

Thar could hear the revs of the engine. Too high! Too high! The engine screamed at him. He glanced at the speedometer. Too fast! Too fast! It glared accusingly back at him.

Decide! You must decide! — screamed a voice in his head.

The curve was fast approaching and he, the bus and his load of kits were out of time. As all the lives of those aboard depended on it, Thar disengaged the clutch and, with all the determination gained from years of driving experience, moved the shifter toward the lower gear. The gearbox protested loudly. Crunch! Graunch! Howl! A battle of wills erupted between driver and machine, adding to the rising whine of the engine and the sudden gasps of the kits, who were now becoming aware of the danger.

The bus was entering the fatal curve. The gearbox gave one last howl of protest. Thar re-engaged the clutch and the engine screamed, revving wildly in an ear-splitting counterprotest of its own. The bus rounded the curve with its cliff-side wheels scrambling for grip on the soft edge of the gravel road. The kits on the outer side cried out as the open vista of the valley below flashed by the windows. Inexplicably, the bus managed to make the curve, the sheer cliff slipping by mere inches from the wheels — certain death to all on board had it gone over.

The danger remained. There were several curves left to navigate, and the bus was still only halfway down the hill. Lurching toward the left side of the road, Thar attempted a correction for the upcoming 90° left-hoof turn. Combined speed and momentum finally had their way. The bus failed to make the curve. It left the road entirely and became airborne over the gully below.

Several things now happened — almost as if in slow motion.

Kits screamed in terror.

Jaak and Tag both looked at each other with wild-eyed horror and gripped the seat in front of them.

The stones in their pockets suddenly felt incredibly light, even to the point of being weightless. The weightlessness spread outward — first to Jaak and Tag, who rose slightly from their seats — and then to the bus itself. All those on the bus felt their stomachs lurch like they were at the top of a very high swing.

Time seemed to slow. The trajectory of the bus through the air slowed.

The bus began to spin very slowly in the air. It did not dive directly downwards, but continued to spin slowly in a graceful arc out over the gully below. The bus then gradually lost height and gently flumped into a deep drift of snow coming to rest almost at the bottom of the hill.

The engine had cut out, and for a moment there was nothing but stunned silence.

Those on the bus hardly knew whether to cheer or cry. In the end there was a mixture of both. Incredibly, no one was hurt — not even so much as a bump or a scratch.

Before long, the alarm was raised, and local rescue services — along with several other valley inhabitants — were on the scene. The students were ferried to the safety of their schools, where anxious parents had already begun to arrive. News — especially bad news — always travelled fast in this small, close-knit community.

Gazza turned up with his flatbed tow truck to haul the bus out of the gully and back to his workshop, where it could be given a full inspection. However, as amazing as it seemed, apart from the broken brake hose there appeared to be no other damage to the bus whatsoever.

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Naturally, everyone involved had a slightly different version of what had happened, with some stories becoming wilder and more fanciful as time went on. What no one could explain with any certainty was how on earth the bus and its occupants could possibly have survived driving off the edge of that mountain road and ending up in the gully below, without so much as a scratch to body or bus.

For Jaak and Tag, however, when they discussed the matter privately, they were in agreement.

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